L’appel du Vide (Call of the Void)
In January 2019, after 5 years of building the start-up Coinbase, I decided to leave the workforce and indefinitely travel solo. For the first time in my life, there was no plan and no purpose.
During my travels, I shared updates with close friends to document my experience, offering an honest, sometimes uncomfortable, look into my thoughts. The writings were an experiment to observe my patterns and find space to expand beyond who I knew myself to be.
What follows is my journey of writing, traveling, and discovery.
I’ve Arrived {the original intention}
For this to make sense I need to share where I began.
Four months ago, I left the most incredible job I’ve ever had. Two years or so before that, I found myself attracted to people who didn’t have traditional nine-to-five jobs, people who had a ‘calling’, whose work and passion(s) were the same, and even more importantly, I found myself attracted to people who were exploring the world, inside and out.
I thought “If I get a chance, I want to go all-in on adventuring.”
Coinbase was an unbelievable time in my life. It turned my life in a new direction. Moving me to San Francisco & expanding my world beyond Houston. It taught me about the tech industry, unicorn startups, revealed my deepest fears, my magnificent gifts, and gave me the means to take a year off work. But more than anything else, it helped me understand how loved I am in this world. I was overwhelmed (in the truest sense) by the number and variety of people who reached out to support my next chapter.
Because each one of you has shown me so much love, I realized the voice in my head that says ‘you can’t do it’ has been overweighted for too long. I arrived at trusting in love to live beyond fear.
After a long and bittersweet process, I left Coinbase. It was the hardest thing to leave something I created. It was a part of my identity. And I was a part of it. It felt like ripping part of me out. Tearing my tongue from a frozen pole. We were bonded, and it’s a long and difficult process to untangle that.
Over the course of the last four months, I arrived many places. Physically, I went to LA, NY, Yosemite, Portland, Santa Barbara, Big Sur, Pismo Beach, Harbin Hot Springs, Cloverdale, San Diego, Tahoe, & spent time in San Francisco
Of course, as you might guess, my emotional state had many more stops :)
For the first 2 months, I was terrified of not having a structure. Who am I if I don’t have a job? What do I do with myself every day? Why am I not suddenly doing everything I ever wanted? What’s the purpose of life?
Every day was an arch of joy not having to go into an office, followed by an existential crisis wondering what to live for. And a lot of Netflix.
Once I sold my furniture, packed up a few boxes of belongings, and moved into Paul’s loft space to avoid having physical ties I arrived at being a nomad: one of my lifelong dreams.
Surprisingly, it kinda sucked.
I’m driving my car to Yosemite and my head is full of those brainworms that seem to endlessly multiply, “Where am I going to sleep tonight? What time do national parks close? Will the car camping be filled up? Can I call a national park? Who even works at national parks? Do people work there or is it just a park? Why would I pay to camp in nature…?”
Fortunately, one of my tools is meditation. I mean I didn’t use it at that moment, instead, I yelled at my dad who was calling to check on me. But theoretically, I knew that feelings, and thoughts, pass. I just had to breathe.
I won’t bore you with the many times I encountered these wriggling brainworms. But let’s just say, it was any time I had to make a decision. Which was always.
Here, I arrived at the unknown. And the phenomenal terror that accompanies it. I resolved to (maybe it was more of a ‘forced to’..) accept the uncertainty of life. Accept that every day, I am stepping into situations with no foreknowledge or experience.
This is where people say: “what an incredible opportunity for you!” to make me feel better.
And yes, it is, but also it blows. Just so you know (or maybe you already do).
While traveling in NY, I arrived at serendipity, luck, and love. The universe finally made sense again.
Many things lead to that: a friend asked me to give notes on his book which is delighting, I reconnected with friends in NY, debated morality, & explored endlessly. (And yes, I met a man, but that’s a story for another day). With that trip, I regained enough willpower to escape my existential spiral and remember the euphoria of life.
I arrived at life without an agenda, taking it as it comes, letting go when things don’t go exactly as I planned, connecting with people not because my job called for it, but because I truly wanted to connect with them — as another human going through life.
And today, I arrived in Malaysia.
At traveling internationally for as long as I want.
At exploring for exploring’s sake.
Not to accomplish something. But to honor my desire for adventure.
The truth is, I am constantly arriving.
In every moment, I leave one thing and arrive at another.
These reflections, these moments of arriving, I want to share with you. I want to write them down, to deepen my experience of them, to think about them, to engage them, to understand them — and hopefully, in this exploration, learn to understand myself alongside you.
Thank you for being a part of this journey.
Love, Kristen
Claiming the Void
I’m scared to write this. It’s why I haven’t sent an update. Normally, I deal with fear by cracking a joke or pretending I’m a tough texas-gal who can take anything. Being vulnerable is not something I have a lot of practice with.
Turns out I don’t like backpacking, I’m not sure how much I enjoy traveling, and I’m struggling with what I want.
Every day I wake up and have to “fill time” in some unfamiliar location, by myself, with limited amenities, feral dogs scratching fleas, and a stream of mosquitoes biting me. Worse is the guilt I feel for not enjoying this more.
I picked up a book at a cafe and it represents my experience perfectly: “Too much space is just as noisy as none. In fact, it is worse because it cannot even claim to be purposeful”
It’s hard to admit but I’ve always seen myself as what I produce, what I achieve, who likes me, or what I accomplish. For most of my life, I’ve been part of a system that promotes that thinking. In this new context, the idea of doing something for success doesn’t apply.
Without a goal-oriented vortex, it’s hard to know what to do.
For many reasons, my experience has shifted to a more positive tone in the last two weeks. It feels like getting a glass of ice water after hiking in 112-degree weather (which I am).
To avoid a long email update now, I’ll send little notes out every few days recounting my journey over the last month and a half, what I learned, what I saw, and why the trip is renamed L’appel du Vide :)
Thanks for sticking with me
Singapore: A time of transitions
I needed to start somewhere. Singapore was convenient & cheap from NY. Through a good friend, I was connected to a couple who live there. They helped set me up with a SE Asia sim card, showed me around, and gave me a place to sleep off jet lag. Having a trip into the unknown start off with support from others was relieving.
I rarely take time for transitions, like stopping in a country just to get to another country. Recognizing the importance of acclimatizing was a concept for me to explore here (and one my younger self never understood). I tried not to pass up the opportunity to experience this transition amidst the restlessness of wanting to move forward; remembering “in-between” is still progress and even considering it a destination itself.
A few days later (I said ‘tried to experience’… not ‘had resounding success’ :) I left by bus to Tioman.
Tioman: Attached to Fear
This small island off the east coast of Malaysia, well known for its picturesque blue waters and jungle landscape, allowed me to start my travels pretending I was “on a regular vacation”.
I tried couch surfing. The parents were not thrilled. And, although I never told them, I was apprehensive. Even though the host was vetted, had glowing reviews, and there were safety precautions, rationality was not top of mind. Traveling solo in unfamiliar areas, where people are always staring at you, and the internet/family/friends have offered unending warnings, the most consuming voice in my head is an unceasing chorus of disturbing imaginings about what could go wrong.
Couch surfing turned out delightful. You have access to a local who knows the area, built-in friends AND a roof over your head (pic of new friends included). Even with this positive outcome, the fear didn’t subside. It lived alongside every moment holding my attention and suppressing the joy being present.
While getting my open-water scuba certification, fully immersed in the vast blue ocean, (my epic host owned a scuba shop) I barely noticed where I was. Instead, I focused on getting a good photo (attached of course) to keep up an appearance of “fun” & drown out my trepidations.
Turns out, fear left unattended, has no choice but to continue growing in an effort to push itself into consciousness.
That’s how the void started developing.
Kuala Lumpur: Touching
The best (read as: worst) way to avoid a void? Ignore it
My next stop made putting off the inevitable easy.
Three of my close friends (Pete, Mag, & Reubs) were in Kuala Lumpur to support Pete competing in the touch rugby world championships. Being around people you know and love gives you a sense of security. Together we made the unfamiliar, familiar. Found our “local coffee shop,” visited the night market, watched enough touch for a lifetime and used the unencumbered space to discuss life challenges & perspectives of the world.
There is something magical about a friendship rooted too deeply for moods to change it.
It offers an opportunity to show up exactly as you are. A sense of trust. Not just in the relationship but also in yourself.
That’s how these three make me feel.
In those moments, I forgot the void.
Koh Phangan: The Void Manifests
I spent days struggling with where to go next (a common theme). In the final hour, I booked an 8-day yoga retreat on the Thai island of Koh Phangan. Although it’s most well known for full moon parties, I stayed on the side that has hippies who eat vegan and talk about what they are manifesting.
Days passed without much going on. In the absence of other people, it felt like I didn’t have a personality. I was nothing but the endless thoughts about what I should be doing.
On the fourth day, I got to know the profound women working at the retreat center. We went on a hike overlooking the island, ‘partied*’ at a villa, and spent hours vulnerably talking about the patterns in our lives, how they reflect our personality and what they teach us about who we are. These women were my tribe. They called me a local and asked when I would move there. When they were around I knew who I was.
Their friendship gave me the courage to get out, rent a scooter, and find adventure.
The universe, on the other hand, was not supportive of my plan.
Almost immediately, I stepped on a sea urchin walking into the ocean. Then my low-quality bike with poor tire tread slipped on gravel taking me down and sacrificing half an inch of skin across the top of my ankle & right leg.
And the freaking hippies asked “why did you manifest that? is the universe telling you to slow down?” NO! I thought as I (limped) through a hike where I tripped and whacked my shin leaving a new gash and huge bump. I cursed and teared up. I had no choice but to slow down.
Even with the irritating injuries, I had support. There was a community of people who understood me. Who loved me. Who made me vegan coconut chocolate oreo ice cream.
When it was time to leave, Benjamin (a fellow retreat-stayer and friend), and I caught the ferry. Watching Koh Phangan fade into the distance melancholy overcame me. Everything I created was gone. My entire identity there. My community. Gone. I felt untethered to everything.
On the pier, we sat watching the sunset. I started crying. With Benjamin’s arm around me, we talked for hours. Feeling the profundity of being truly alone. Separate from everything else. No matter what I create in this world, no matter who I am, who is around, at some point it will be gone.
The nothingness behind all of life.
The depth of the void.
— — — — — — — —
*To give you an idea, a hippie ‘party’ is one where, instead of beer, cacao and raw veggies are served. Uninhibited dancing is endless and fire spinning is the entertainment.
Sagada: No-Range Chicken
Sagada went from bad to worse. The motorcycle crash left an open wound on the top of my foot. Not ideal for a 3-day trek through rice paddies. After almost twisting my ankle multiple times on the first day’s 8-hour hike to a small village town, I gave up and told the guide I couldn’t keep going.
Amenities in Filipino villages felt nonexistent. The toilets don’t flush (instead you pour a pail of water into the bowl). There is no toilet paper. There are no towels. Bugs crawl on everything.
I stayed at a house where the chicken coop, housing live chickens, was 30 feet from the kitchen. The same kitchen where we ate chicken for dinner.
When I started this journey, I romanticized backpacking. I thought I was tough enough to handle anything. Now I was face to face with reality; face to face with how little I can actually handle especially on a bad ankle.
On a 2-hour motorcycle ride overlooking mountainscapes, the road was covered in debris turning it into a mostly blind-one-way. Halfway through, the driver pulled over with an ominous “something is wrong.” Turns out the breaks stopped working. He walked up the road to find the missing part and put some elastic around it like this was an everyday occurrence.
We laughed it off but my mind was racing: How are these people surviving? This country’s infrastructure is actively trying to kill you. I had nothing in common with this world. Why did I think I could handle this? Why did I think this would be fun? How am I an adult who doesn’t know how to flush a toilet, has to borrow toilet paper, dries off with dirty clothes, and can’t handle eating chicken while looking at one?
Sagada shattered the story I had always told myself about “being able to take on anything”.
I saw my naivety, truly felt my limits.
Siargao: Stories of Love
The long-awaited visit from the NY romance had finally come (let’s call him C). I was no longer going to be alone! When C arrived in Manila we hopped a plane to the surf island of Siargao.
This was our third chunk of time together. We had written untold stories in our minds about the relationship. One of my recurring thoughts during solo-travel was “at least I have C.” As though my sense of purpose & identity could come from someone else. I saw the thought, let it pass knowing I was setting myself up for failure, and tried to come back to the present.
The first few days of his visit were bumpy. The stories we told in our minds were different than what was happening. I tried to avoid saying anything, worried it would risk the relationship.
On the third day C, being the ever-thoughtful man he is, stopped what he was doing to thank me for being supportive even when he was feeling reserved. On the fifth day, I — taking a different approach to the bumpiness — blurted out I was annoyed with him for talking about the ocean too much. When I heard myself out loud I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity.
Being in conflict with someone you care for is one of the most uncomfortable things. But we entered the conversation open-hearted and open-handed allowing us to deepen our trust. Everything started to flow. We stopped telling stories about ourselves and our relationship, and instead started living it.
We met three of the most incredible people a few days later, Allen who was assigned as my surf instructor, and Mia and Droy, a couple that runs a hostel in Siargao. We spent a whole day with them driving to the other side of the island, catching waves, jamming out to music, and taking album cover photoshoots.
C & I learned we can live together inside the certainty of the present, rather than existing in stories created by the mind in the past or about the future. To be vulnerable with each other, fully enjoying all the moments, good and bad.
Discovering how two puzzle pieces can come together ever-evolving their edges to fit, C’s visit gave me the presence to move forward, present with my journey.
Cambodia: Picture (Im)perfect
Not going to lie to you, as absurd as it sounds now, I actually googled “buddist temples” because I wanted my next stop to involve a shaman and enlightenment. I chose Angkor Wat, the famous temples of Cambodia.
A few days of yoga, tea, and sightseeing — still no Shaman. I took the night off & hit the town to find ‘Happy Pizza.’ I debated being honest about this part but (and you might have guessed) ‘Happy’ references a special sort of pizza topping.
At first I was just buying endless street food and colorful pants. About an hour in it became psychoactive. I could close my eyes, feel beyond myself, and see the whole universe.
It wasn’t the shaman I wanted but apparently it was the shaman I needed.
Then it hit me, I was on my next romanticized storyline: enlightenment. No different than backpacking. I was living an endless loop of my desire for Kitsch* (as Broch defines it).
It seems to me that most humans create romanticized ideals and perpetuate them with every picture we take & each post we share. But the capture moment happens once. Then it is gone. We chose a nice background. We smile. We look happy. But life is the thousands of moments that happen around that one snap. Each moment falls away as quickly as a camera shutters.
It’s why I wanted to tell you the real story. It feels like our society has cornered in on the glamorous final version. Not the long journey that exists to make that moment possible. Acknowledging the mess is the only way for me to stop living an endless loop in society’s desire for perfection.
And when I finally dropped my romanticized ideals, it felt like the void lost its vacuum.
